it's just a whisper
by Firedawn'd
Summary: It's three in the morning when Oliver calls her. (Spoilers for Arrow: Lian Yu - 5x23)
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Don't own anything. Spoilers for Arrow: Lian Yu (5x23)

Note: **Crossposted from Ao3.**

* * *

It's three in the morning when Oliver calls her.

His voice is hesitant and shakier than he'd let on, and from the way he calls her, with his quiet trembly tone of his and the slight hitch in his breath and with the few muted stifles, she knows that something's gone terribly wrong.

She knows Oliver well enough, if she'd say so herself. And so she doesn't waste time in asking what it is, and asks if she could do anything about it.

She remembers Oliver's gravelly voice as he hoarsely told her _all of them were dead_. Even the slimeball Merlyn. She'd expected some sort of cold resignation, because, after all, it was her _killer_ that died (and not her this time), but none came.

When he told her that her father, Quentin, had been caught in the explosion, she felt her breath leave herself.

And when Oliver told her that Nyssa had been among the fallen, well…

She didn't believe it at first, not at all. It was surreal, and even more so to comprehend. Nyssa… well, Nyssa was a fighter. She wasn't dead, and she couldn't be dead. It simply wasn't possible. She was the _damn_ demon, and she'd survived things when most others would've simply curled up and died. She wasn't easily overcame, and even if so, she always had a way out. Always. Even if it meant to bide her time and strike when the second's right, she'll do it, because she knew Nyssa and she knew that she would never give up. Even on the brink of death, she kept fighting. And it simply wasn't possible that she was gone, just like that.

And it couldn't _be_. She'd made a promise to her to break her out of her prison and the dilemma within; because Nyssa still loved her, with all of her heart and all of her soul, even when she knew she shouldn't, because all she did was leave her, again and again until there were too many pieces to pick up. But she was determined to resolve the conundrum there and then, by becoming her saviour and returning the favour.

But then, against her better judgement and will that told herself to damn whatever Nyssa said and still break her out of there anyway, she was weak. Afraid. Scared. Emotions that weren't there plagued her like never before. Because they weren't like what they once were, not anymore.

She knew that Nyssa would break anyone that called her _fragile,_ but that was exactly how Sara felt. Skittish, nervous and agitated and emotions that she shouldn't _be_ , all at once.

Then, she'd left her there, _again,_ hurting and healing in Nanda Parbat, and even though she got herself out of there without her help, she knew that Nyssa was still trapped in the corridors of her own mind.

And then, when the League was disbanded and Malcolm Merlyn was no more, she hadn't had a path to go. Nothing to forge (because all of what was left of _his_ legacy was ashes and crumbles), nothing to strive for (because the mantle that she'd once worn so proudly was cursed to doom, after all), and nowhere to go, nowhere to _call home._

 _And she wanted to go to her then. Offer her a temporary refuge at the Waverider, give her a place to stay and a family to care for, give her a purpose and a goal she could strive for, give her someone— something to mend that trampled heart._

 _And now, she couldn't._

She didn't shout at Oliver for falling into webs of lies and truths, into the deluded, crumpled and beaten game Adrian was playing at, didn't berate him for his continuous self-loathing and self-hatred, didn't yell at him for playing the blame game, didn't lie to him about how _everything's gonna be alright,_ didn't bother to lie that it wasn't his fault.

But she sits there, as still as death itself as he lists off yet one and another name through the static noise, again and again like he's the executioner that had committed a horrible deed, until his voice is no more than a mere drone and he's rendered coughing and heaving for breath when he finishes.

She stays quiet on the other end, not trying to process all she's told and waits silently for him to speak again. She doesn't prompt, doesn't ask for him to continue. Waits for him to say what he has to, and wishes that she could forget the words — _names_ — he'd said.

Then, when there's no sound evident of the other end except for his breathing, she knew that her line was about to go static. But finally, when she thinks he's about to quit, she hears his barely-audible whisper through the phone, and Sara almost doesn't catch it.

 _You're the only one left._

She doesn't reply. Swarms of thoughts came and went, but the majority was illegible. Words came and went: _Felicity, Thea, John, Evelyn, her_ ** _father_** _…_ She doesn't try to process the barrel of information she'd been thrown, but instead quietly turns her mind to something else.

 _They were standing on the balcony of her quarters. She was smiling at the afternoon dawn as it shone warmth into the normally-constrict and cold chambers of the League, as all the fatigue seemed to seep away from her. Nyssa stood beside her, fixing her stare at the courtyards below, her royallike attire and the air of authority still present, but it felt to have lifted, even by a little. Even if the Daughter's Demon never let out anything even more than a smirk, she could've sworn that she saw the ghost of a shattered smile._

 ** _Gone_** _._

In her ear, she could hear yells, but Oliver's voice had long phased out into the background, as well as the quiet tremble of the phone in her hand.

 _Forget your thoughts, she had told her, once during mass meditation. They are merely distractions. Let yourself drift away, and abolish yourself from your psyche. Eradicate your sins; even for a moment, and forget._

 _''How?'' she had asked with her eyes wide, temporarily jolted out of her state of reverie. ''You make it sound so easy.''_

 _Nyssa shook her head, the barest hint of nostalgia gracing her features as she exhibited a sullen smile. ''It is the hardest thing in the world. Now, concentrate.''_

 ** _No more._**

The phone emits another vibration, but the device is long-forgotten.

 _''What is it that you are wearing?'' Nyssa hissed at her. ''You, out of all people, must know that this is a sacred ceremony.''_

 _In response, Sara only giggles. She flips her flip-flops, much to Nyssa's dismay. ''It's just a wedding, Nys. And we're supposed to expunge one of the most annoying targets in the entire world. Seriously, how in hell can you stand the flirting?''_

 _Nyssa huffs. ''I do not. The only reason he is not dead yet resides in the pleasant fact that I will murder him later.''_

 ** _Eliminated._**

A fill of white noise buzzed in her mind, but she's not here anymore.

 _'' I can't take the killing anymore,'' she whispers at the dark figure overhead. Tears stain her cheeks, but her eyes are dry._

 _Without a word nor a sound, Nyssa brushes a stray strand of her hair and tucks it behind her ear. It's small and subtle, and the touch of warmth leaves her right away, but it's there._

 _Nyssa's quiet, and she knows it well. There's a chain of thoughts undergoing in her mind, and she knows this her all too familiarly; through sleepless and fitful nights whenever thoughts overran Nyssa's mind, and then she's away from this world. It worries Sara when she remains unresponsive even after gentle nudges and shakes, before finally snapping out of her concentration and she's back again._

 _And now, she knows that there's no snapping her out of this lapse. ''No!''_

 ** _Dead._**

''No!'' She took a raspy breath. Then quieter, in a low tone that even she couldn't recognize: ''No.''

''Sara?'' Oliver's voice was tentative; no longer holding the weight of the self-loathing or self-hatred it had carried so prominently earlier, worry blatant in his tone.

''I'm alright,'' she lied, trying to regulate her rapid breathing. _Her father, smiling at her younger-self as he held out a cage with a singing canary._ Inhale. _Laurel, laughing as they clinked their black-and-white milkshakes._

 _Felicity, flushing red after yet another innuendo. John, abandoning his stoic mask as he made faces at a gurgling Baby Sara. Thea, looking at the target-board in utter awe at the arrow that swayed on the bullseye._

 _Nyssa, smiling one last time as she released her from the League._

And then, she buries her head into her arms and breaks.

* * *

A few things:

1\. Yes, Evelyn was intentional. You'll see why later.

2\. Let's just assume that Oliver has a Nokia phone that connect with the entirety of the multiverse.

3\. Actually, let's just ignore a lot of stuff.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: This is an alternative take on things. Sorry about the late update, and thanks for bearing with me!

* * *

It's three in the morning when her phone vibrates.

Sara stifles a curse. Adjusting her glasses and running her fingers through her hair, she groans and pushes the paperwork away, groping for that phone that was situated… just _out of reach._

She picks up on the third ring.

''Hello?'' she begins wearily, wondering _why the hell would they call her at this time, when she was just trying to fix time, goddamnit,_ before being cut off by Oliver's quick reply.

He's breathless when he speaks, voice hoarse as if he'd taken a punch to the throat, but the urgency in his tone doesn't dwindle. ''Sara? Thank god. I-I need you here. Lian Yu's about to blow… a-and they're trapped inside. I-I can't-''

Sara goes still. She doesn't mention how her senses tinge at the mention of Purgatory, or how the sleep feels to seep away from her by the passing seconds. ''Run that by me again, Oliver.''

''So you're telling me that every _one_ is trapped on Lian Yu, which, '' _by the way_ , _Sara'',_ is blowing up, _right now._ '' Sara pushes the hair out of her eyes, and rests her hand on her forehead.

 _What did Oliver do to get himself into this?_

''There's no time left, Sara!'' He's scared, she knows. The concept isn't alien to her, because she _knows it_ when Oliver Queen's scared, but never this. She knows he's never scared for himself, never bothered nor cared for his own self, but others? Always for others. And now, she's sure it's reached its peak, because his sanity has, too.

''Maybe-'' He stops. The line goes quiet for a moment, before resuming with a choke of breath. ''Maybe you can-''

She doesn't beat around the bush. ''That is out of the question, Oliver.'' She states, as softly as she could. ''I already broke time once. I can't do it again.''

She hears silent muffles from the other end, but she can't discern if it's anger or despair. A moment later, the sound ceases, and her line resumes. '' _Everyone's_ on that island, Sara. Felicity, Dig, Thea…'' He pauses. ''Quentin. Nyssa. Sara, you can't possibly _not_ …''

Her breath hitches at the mention of her father, and two at Nyssa. Oliver doesn't deter at her silence, instead interpreting it as a sign to continue. ''It doesn't matter what happens to a vase that's shattered already. Too many pieces that _can't_ be picked up, no matter how hard you try. There's no fixing what you're trying to fix, Sara. _Help me.''_

It's a cry. _His_ cry.

''It matters, Oliver,'' she starts, trying to mask the sob that built in her throat. ''I'm sorry, I'm _so, so sorry,_ but it matters. You… you can't just _go back in time_ and change things, just because,'' and that just doesn't _feel_ right, because she _wants to,_ but she _can't_ and she knows it. ''… There are rules, Oliver,'' she says, but the words feel empty. ''And _I_ can't,'' and she knows she can't, but then, _why couldn't she?_

''What's more important, Sara? Playing by the rules, or family?'' His tone tightens and she can tell that he's anguished now, and she knows that this's his last-ditch effort. It's a valid question. Before, when she was Black Canary, she would've chosen family in a heartbeat. After all, _family_ was something that she hadn't had since she was marooned on Lian Yu, something she'd once took for granted and now treasured, and then, after the island and the League and when she came back to Starling, she became herself, but not herself. And rules… well, she _broke_ rules.

But now… now, she was the White Canary, renounced assassin and part-time time-traveler (the other half was the usual recreation and flirting and, y'know, timeline-fixing duties.) She'd learned to let go of Laurel, after years of denial and hurt and wanting to go back and rewind time and resisting the urge to murder Darhk once and for all. She'd _accepted_ that.

 _(And maybe they should, too.)_

''Both, Oliver,'' she says, but it's barely above a whisper. ''Both.''

Oliver doesn't respond. She could hear the tranquil whistling of the winds coming from his side, and she knows he's thinking. As her line goes increasingly silent, she thinks that maybe Oliver's disconnected, before she hears a shaky, husked gasp from the other end, and she fears the worst, before—

''They've reached the A.R.G.U.S. bunker.'' His previous agitated and feverish tone's elevated, as if the burdens of the world were lifted from his shoulders, even for a moment. Beside him, she hears a soft squeal of elate — William's, she thinks — and he sighs in quiet relief. ''They're safe. They're _alive.''_ She could practically feel Oliver's grin behind the phone, and she couldn't help but smile a little herself.

She could hear his breathing from the other end, and it's relaxed and calmer than she'd ever even seen him in. ''Can- can you…?''

Her smile widens. ''I'm on it.''

She lands quite clumsily.

The _Waverider_ crashes into the charred ground that once was Lian Yu, startling the few members on the island and prompting a stream of curses from the members of her team.

It goes relatively alright, considering the fact she didn't inform her team about their next destination, and, y'know, judging by the fact time didn't collapse onto itself by the time they landed.

It's a good sign.

When the ramp unfolds, she's greeted with the sight of Oliver. His stance is alert and his bow's gripped tightly in his hand, but she could tell that he was barely holding back a grin. ''I thought you'd never come.''

She chuckles. ''Can you blame me for being late to the party?'' Then, she waves at the crowd. ''Hi. Want a ride home?''

John's stony mask halts. Felicity releases a subtle squeak. Thea seems to be stuck between hugging her or shooting her. Quentin is blinking in disbelief. Two others edge at the corners of the burnt forest, seemingly unsure of what to make of her. Slade stays still. Samantha's stunned. William waves back. And Nyssa-

Nyssa's walking towards her, no hesitation in her step and royalty protruding from all ends, but her face is a deadly mask.

Then, she stops, and Sara feels sweat trickle down her brow as warmth rises on her cheeks and she barely holds back another hitch — however, she doesn't back down.

Finally, ever so slightly, a ghost of a smirk lingers the end of Nyssa's impassive face.

And when she envelops her in a kiss, the world felt complete.


End file.
